“Why don’t you girls stay the night?” Mom engulfed Mia in a cinnamon-scented hug. She lowered her voice. “Sweetie, next time maybe you should wear one of those—what are they called?—camisole things under that shirt. It’s a little low cut. You wouldn’t want people to get the wrong idea.”
“Maybe that’s exactly what she wants,” Cara whispered, earning herself a jab in the side.
“What, dear?”
“Nothing.” Mia pushed Cara toward the door. “Ignore her. Do you want us to take the leftover brownies?”
“Oh, yes. Your father will inhale them before the night’s over if you don’t. Maybe next time you try my trick of making them with applesauce? Adding a little zucchini? It cuts back on the fat and—”
“It’s Grandma’s rec—”
Mia discreetly moved in between Mom and Cara. “Yes, Mom. Applesauce. Will do.”
“Oh, I hate you two girls living on your own.” Their mother wrung her hands, fretting next to the door as Mia and Cara shrugged on their coats. For two years Mia and Cara had shared an apartment. Still, every time they left the Pruitt farmhouse, Mom worried over the two young women living alone.
Cara rolled her eyes and groaned. “We’re only ten minutes away, Mom. Two years, and a serial killer hasn’t gotten us yet.”
Mia pushed Cara again. “You’re not helping.”
Mom clucked her tongue. “Stay the night. Silly to drive all the way home when it’s dark out.”
“We’re only ten minutes away,” Mia repeated gently.
Mom took a deep breath and let it out, offering a pained smile. “All right. All right. We’ll see you in the morning.” Cara and Mia waved as they stepped out the door.
“Don’t forget to get one of those camisoles, Mia!” Mom called after them. “And make sure to lock both locks on your door. Oh, and lock your car doors, even when you’re driving.”
Cara groaned into the evening quiet. “Seriously, how did we turn out normal? How did they even manage to produce three children? Never mind—I don’t want to know the answer to that.”
Mia climbed into the driver’s seat of her truck. Cara and Anna were on that normal spectrum, but she wasn’t always sure she was. How long had Mom’s outer monologue been Mia’s inner dialogue? She’d learned to manage the anxiety, push away the worry about what other people might think or do, but it wasn’t as if the voice had disappeared.
Cara turned in her seat, smiling weirdly as Mia pulled out onto the highway.
“Okay, so hear me out before you totally shoot me down, ’kay?” Cara practically bounced in her seat.
“Oh, God.”
“It’s Saturday night. We rocked it at the market today. You look like someone I wouldn’t be embarrassed to be seen with. I don’t have to work at the salon tomorrow.” Cara clutched Mia’s arm. “Let’s go to a bar.”
Mia laughed, shaking off Cara’s grip so she could have both hands on the steering wheel. “Right.”
“I’m serious! It’ll be fun. A few drinks. We find a few cute guys to chat up. Maybe you give a guy your number.”
Mia’s shoulders involuntarily hunched before she told herself to relax them. She was twenty-six, for heaven’s sake. This was what she should be doing on a Saturday night. Not sitting at home with her seed catalogs. Maybe this was the something different she was wanting.
Still, the idea left her vaguely nauseous.
“We’ll have fun! I promise! We can leave whenever you want. Please, please, please, please—”
“All right!”
Cara’s squeal was ear piercing. “Let’s go to Juniors. Way hotter guys there.”
“Super.” Mia tried to talk herself into some enthusiasm. She wasn’t going to meet a guy holed up in her apartment, and she probably wasn’t going to meet a guy working at the farm or even at the farmers’ market. If she wanted to drop the virginity, she was going to have to put herself out there.
If she could control her blushing, quiet the anxiety, keep her mouth under control, there was no reason this couldn’t be a fun evening.
And Cara wondered why she wasn’t more proactive in the dating scene.
Mia pulled into the crowded lot of Juniors. New Benton boasted only two bars, and Mia had never spent time at either, unless occasionally picking up a drunk Cara counted. Still, the whole town knew Juniors was where the young people went and The Shack was the old, townie bar.
Cara rummaged around in her purse as Mia parked in the back. She flipped down the visor mirror and began applying mascara, holding out a tube of something in her free hand. “Here.”
“Oh, I—”
“Just put on some lipstick. Oh, and some mascara.” Cara finished with the mascara, shoved both tubes of makeup at Mia. “Cara tip number one. Make sure to always wear lipstick. It makes a guy notice your mouth.” Cara waggled her eyebrows.
Oh, this was so not a good idea. She did not belong here. Of course, there hadn’t been any places she’d belonged growing up, outside the farm. Slowly, she was changing that. So maybe she needed to suck it up and try something different. Sometimes jumping into the deep end was the only way to learn.
Mia took a deep breath and flipped down her own visor mirror. In the truck’s pale dome light, she applied the lipstick and the mascara. She didn’t wear makeup often, but Cara had given her enough lessons that she didn’t look like a clown.
Hopefully.
“Ready?” Cara already had her door open. This really was her element.
She managed a weak smile. “Just give me a sec.”
“Oh, God, not the Stuart Smalley routine.”
“Just a second.”
Cara shook her head in disgust as she hopped out of the truck and slammed the door. Mia looked at her expression in the mirror. Stupid or not, a little positive self-talk always helped calm her nerves and bolster her confidence.
“I can do this,” she said to her reflection. “I am a confident, capable adult. Talking to a guy will not kill me. In fact, it’ll probably be fun.” It was time. Past time to fight anxiety and really go after this. Did she want to be alone forever without even kissing a guy? No. So she needed to make this work.
With one final “I can do this,” Mia hopped out of the truck and met Cara at the door to the bar. “Okay, I’m ready.”
“Because, gosh, darn it, people like you.”
“Shut up and move.”
Cara led her into the crowded bar. A few people greeted Cara and she waved. Even though Mia recognized a lot of the faces, no one called out to her. Her social circle was slim. Oh, sure, she talked to a few of the ladies at the market, had something passing as a friendship with some of the women there her age, but mostly her tried-and-true friends and confidants had the last name Pruitt. And did not hang out at Juniors.
Cara found a little table in a back corner. “You sit. I’ll go order us some drinks.”
“Just get me a soda.”
Cara shook her head. “Yeah, right. An alcoholic beverage is exactly what you need.”
Mia sat and looked around the room while Cara went up to the bar to order their drinks. People talked and chatted and yelled and laughed. In the corner, she felt somewhat separate from it all. Nobody looked at her. It was as if she wasn’t even there.
Depressing thought. Funny how she’d spent